


Playing Rock Star

by GeeGollyWiz13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I suck at writing, Let the suckage commence, M/M, Merp, Oldies Type Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeeGollyWiz13/pseuds/GeeGollyWiz13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the pack thinks Derek is being distant, Stiles goes to investigate. What he finds he is completely unprepared for. (Sent to a friend through email, so it’s super rough.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Rock Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kawaiicoyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/gifts).



> Guys, this is my first time posting on here! YAY! Hahah, Hopefully more people will actually read what I write. Uhm, I am un-beta'd, so, this is pretty rough. Hope you all enjoy it!

“Derek?” Stiles asks, as he opens the never locked door of the burned out Hale house. It’s quiet, Derek not anywhere visible, but Stiles has a hunch that he’s here. Erica and Boyd said that he’d been moody, and Isaac refused to even go near him. Scott only shrugged and hugged Allison close when Stiles asked about it. Jackson scoffed from the end of the lunch table, but gave no answer. He seemed to know something about, but was keeping that information to himself.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Lydia hummed, smirking. “Once a month, overly broody and angry.” She took a bite of her apple, and Stiles went slack jawed in the wake of her wit and cunning.

 

But the house was silent around him. There was nothing, no signs of life. A wave of panic set in. What if Derek had been shot again? What if something had happened, and he stored himself away, kept himself hidden to die like an animal, in solitude? Stiles searched the entire downstairs. No one. He looked up the stairs, and grimaced. Did he really want to go up there? He took a tentative step, to see if perhaps Derek would lodge himself at Stiles in sheer anger for even thinking about it, but nothing. He climbed the rest of the stairs tentatively, but nothing. However, he could hear rustling in one of the rooms.

 

Then came a scratching, and then a melody. “If you should say goodbye, I’ll still go one loving you. Each night I ask the stars up above, why must I be a teenager in love?” It was an old song, from around the 50s or 60s. It was what Stiles thinks pop evolved from. The song went on, but nothing else came from the room. Then, the song switched, and it was a female voice now. “I met him at the candy store….That’s when I fell for the leader of the pack.” A motorcycle sound came from the room, obviously in the song, but Stiles chuckled. How corny was that. Then he heard it.

“The leader of the pack.” But this was along with the song, gruff, low, and silky smooth. Stiles froze in place, not that he had been moving anywhere any way, but he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Yet, his nerves begged him to move, to run. But the only place they moved was forward. The song switched again, as he moved towards the door to the room. Now this one? He definitely knew.

“Nothing you can do cause I’m stuck like glue to my guy…” This time, the voice that sang outloud with the song was clear, less gruff and less low, but still as silky. Stiles looked through the keyhole in the door and had to cover his mouth to keep from both screaming and laughing loudly.

 

Derek stood in the middle of the room, what Stiles assumed was his bedroom. Records were scattered all over the ground, a large player in the corner of the room Stiles could see, but it appeared that somehow, Derek had gotten the records onto tape, a large stereo on the bed, blasting the music. Derek himself was standing back to the door, his usual leather jacket on, yet somehow it seemed so large on him. He was standing in nothing but that and sleek black skin tight boxer briefs. Derek was singing into a hairbrush, bobbing his head to the music. He seemed like a teenager, a kid who knew his parents wouldn’t be home for a while…

Or a parent-like Alpha who thought his pack wouldn’t be around for a while. Stiles smirked. So that’s why he’d been so mean. He wanted to have some good ol’ Derek time with himself. But why this? Derek sang again, and it wasn’t too bad, but not super awesome like someone would think. It was somewhat off pitch, but happy and excited. But then Stiles saw it. It was the box that said “Dad’s Records”. Stiles felt his throat go tight. Oh god, he was reliving some childhood memory.

“Rock around the clock” started blaring from the radio and Stiles watched as Derek danced, smiling and laughing at himself, watching as Derek slipped on a record case and almost fell flat on his face. At that point, Stiles couldn’t hold it in any longer, and let out a loud bark of a laugh. Just as Derek caught himself before he fell, he looked to the door, and Stiles instincts told him to run. But he knew better. Running was an invitation to be mauled. The door flew open, and a blushing, angry Derek was staring down at Stiles.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek growled, and Stiles couldn’t speak, his eyes level with Derek’s junk. He willed his gaze up towards Derek’s face, and thankfully, it obeyed.

“I-uh. I came to check on you. The pack has been worried about you.” Stiles mumbled, before scrambling up. “Itty Bitty Pretty One” blared out of the radio, and Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulder.

“Hey, I like this song.”

“Stiles!”

“What? I was telling the truth! I came here to check on you because everyone thinks you’ve gone psycho. Okay? I didn’t expect you to be playing pretend rock star in your bedroom to oldies.” Stiles choked out. He knew it sounded rude, but god, what else could he do with a leather jacket, shirtless, and holy crap that bulge in those briefs, Derek. Nothing. Derek blushed again and frowned even deeper than Stiles thought possible. Derek grabbed the front of Stiles’ shirt, and dragged him into the room, throwing him towards the box on the bed.

Derek looked around for his pants, but Stiles acted quickly, shedding his own. Solidarity right? Wincing, he looked over at Derek, whos eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Stiles took his opportunity to shed his shirt as well, peeling it off, and throwing it. In nothing but his superman boxers and a white tank, Stiles chuckled at the next song that came up. It was “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” but Stiles couldn’t help but think of a little wolfy Derek sleeping in some exotic jungle. His lip quivered, and he tried to smile, but he was too nervous.

“So, you do this often?” Stiles asked, and Derek smiled a bit.

“Not really. Usually to busy.”

“Why didn’t you just ask for some time alone?” Stiles asked, toeing off his shoes, and stepping away from his clothes. Derek shook his head and looked away.

“I would get questioned about it. The pack is as it’s supposed to be. Tight, protective. You shouldn’t be asking for alone time.” Derek looked away. “So I tried being mean, rude, to try and get them away.” He looked back at Stiles, who was slowly getting closer. “My dad, he loved the oldies.He and Mom… god, they would dance to them in the living room late at night. Me and Laura used to watch them sometimes, when we knew we were supposed to be in bed. They must’ve known we were there, but god. It was so cool.”

“Why didn’t you hear me?” Stiles asked, finally close enough to Derek where he could reach out and touch him.

“I was caught up. Concentrating on other things.” Derek blushed. “You caught me off guard. Music can easily cover the sound of a heartbeat or of breathing.” Derek was still beat red, and he couldn’t exactly look Stiles in the eye.

“Well, hey, happens to the best of us.” Stiles hummed, and took those few steps forward, a few inches away now. “So, you going to teach me to dance like that or what?” Derek’s breath hitched in his throat, and Stiles slowly reveled in the fact that he could do that to the tough wolf. Derek softly took Stiles’ hand and placed it on his hip, soft warm skin underneath making Stiles’ blush this time. “Mr. Sandman” began, and Stiles rolled his eyes. Dear god.

“Sure, thing.” Derek began to sway in place, his shoulders leading. “And tell him that his lonesome nights are over. Sandman, I’m so alone, Don’t have nobody to call my own…” Derek sang, and Stiles forgot he even had legs. “Mr. Sandman, bring us a dream, give him a pair of eyes with a come-hither gleam…” The voice was gruff and low again, but Stiles pegged it for a totally different reason.

************

Stiles lay on the bed next to Derek an hour later. His lips were puffy, and somewhat sore. He was a bit breathless, and he knew that Derek was exactly the same way.

“You know what we just did would be totally illegal if we did that when this song came out.” Derek hummed, threading his fingers with Stiles’.

“So worth it.” Stiles replied. Then he rolled over, eager to break the law again.

-“Why Must I be a Teenager in Love?”


End file.
